The Untold Stories
by Avalain Nightshade
Summary: Come on, friends, we all know what we loved most about Dragon Age: II... The companions. Here is a series of one-shots centered around fem Mage-Hawke including the themes of friendship, action, romance, and general mischief! If you loved the dynamics of Hawke's companions (whether it be how they interact with Hawke, each other, or both!), I invite you to click here and check it out
1. Chapter 1- A Nightmare Revisited

Hawke couldn't sleep. The bed she was lying in was hardly more than a piece of wood. She had given her Mother and her sibling her two blankets so they wouldn't be cold. And since she couldn't sleep, Raven decided it would be amusing to wave her hand back and forth over a candle, lighting and extinguishing the tiny flame with each pass.

She chuckled upon realizing that there was enough light to make shadow puppets on the wall—she was about to form the mabari puppet that an old friend had taught her when she heard it.

A sharp inhale, all too familiar a sound: sharp and pained and panicked.

It was the sound someone made whenever they died.

Raven launched straight up in bed, withdrawing her favorite dagger from its sheath, and promptly smacked her head into the roof.

"Shit!" she cursed, rubbing her forehead. Restraining a groan, she descended more gracefully to the ground. Her head throbbed from where it had made contact with the wood… there would be a nasty bruise in the morning.

Once she was standing on the grimy floor of Gamlen's so-called house, she used the little candle that was still alight and looked in the beds below her own.

Mother was still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the sound that had startled Raven so badly. But when she stepped closer to her brother's bed, she heard a malcontent voice grumble, "Get that bloody light out of my face."

"Carver," scolded Raven, raising an eyebrow. She knew that tone of voice. It was a voice of false bravado, of forced courage in the face of fear.

"Raven," he returned, his voice more condescending than before. "You don't need to be the hero _all_ hours of the day. Go back to sleep."

Raven restrained a sigh at this comment. Despite the year they'd been working together in Kirkwall, their relationship hadn't gotten much better since leaving Lothering. And as he was her only sibling now, Raven did not wish him to resent her any longer.

But even though Carver had expressed his wish to be left alone, she couldn't just do that. He was her little brother, after all.

"That's not going to work on me this time," she whispered carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was wake up Mother. The poor woman rarely slept the entire night through, and Raven wasn't about to wake her from the first peaceful sleep she might've had in months.

Carver didn't say anything in reply—Raven took the opportunity to take another step towards her brother's bed. He was shirtless, but despite the chilly winter-spring air, he was sweating. His fists were clenched, and his legs were curled to his chest.

Hesitantly, Raven placed a hand on his arm.

He flinched.

With a sigh, she asked, "What happened, Carver? You _can_ talk to me."

Raven was met with another silence. It took a moment before he groaned, pulled the itchy and ineffective quilt around his shoulders, and snapped, "It's nothing."

"It's certainly not if it's preventing your sleep," she returned evenly.

This time, Carver groaned louder and looked over his shoulder to glare at his older sister. One piercing amber eye met her own; narrowing it, he insisted, "I don't need your help!"

Raven placed the candle on the table. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the surrounding blackness, she noticed he was shivering, loath as he was to show it.

She tiptoed to the tiny fireplace at the end of their beds. Raven took a deep breath and extended her fingers towards the twigs stacked in the hearth. At her command, a sprig of fire leapt from her extended hand and lit the sparse bits of wood. As the fire licked at its food, she stepped back towards the triple bunk-beds and stood, her arms crossed.

When Carver heard the silence, he glanced over his shoulder again only to scoff upon seeing Raven standing protectively next to his bed. Apparently tired of the conversation, he carefully maneuvered himself to face her and narrowed his eyes.

"I. Don't. Need. Your. Help," he stated clearly, but he too was quiet for Mother's sake.

Raven raised an eyebrow again and leaned back. "Your shaking hands say differently."

Carver instantly stashed his hands underneath the blanket. Seeing the slightest of smirks on his sister's face, he flopped on his back on the wood that constituted as a bed. After closing his eyes, he asked, "Why are you like this? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because you are my brother," Raven answered simply. "My family."

As she said these words, she moved so that she was standing right next to his bed. Taking advantage of the silence, she said, "You'd never know how helpful talking about things can be."

"And you would?" he challenged.

Raven nodded. "What do you think Mother and I do whenever you're out of the house? Gamlen's certainly not one for intelligent conversation."

That seemed to cheer Carver up a little. Though he kept his eyes closed, a light smirk traced his lips. At last, he grunted, "Fair point."

Raven chuckled lightly. "So will you loosen up, or will I have to make you?"

She poked him in the side, the ratty quilt drawn up around his chest providing no protection. Carver jolted and nearly hit his head on the top of the bed the way Raven had crashed hers into the ceiling, which made her laugh.

Although he was glaring slightly, Carver sighed dramatically and groaned, "If I tell you, will you _go away_ afterward?"

"Cross my heart."

"Good." His retort was not as exasperated as Raven thought it would be, however. After a moment of gathering himself, Carver sat up in his bed—he had to hunch over, as there was little room to sit in the triple bunk-beds—and confessed, "I had another nightmare. Worse than the others."

"I expected as much," responded Raven gravely. "If I may ask, what was this one about?"

Carver ran a hand through his normally neat black hair, making it stick up in all directions. His bloodshot eyes were somewhat lost as he answered, "I dreamed of Beth… of that disgusting creature smashing her against the ground and throwing her into the rocks like she was nothing. I—I tried to make my legs move, but they were stuck in the ground. All I could do was watch that _thing_ murder our sister."

Raven felt a lump gather in her throat. She missed Bethany terribly… it had been a hard year without her. They weren't even able to give her a proper funeral.

"It was like a repeat of that very day." Carver's voice was heavy, as if these were thoughts that hadn't been borne of the nightmare. "I wanted to do something to… something to prevent her from dying. But I couldn't. And I don't know if it was my dream or my own cowardice that kept me from charging it."

At this, Raven put her hands on her hips. Her lips pursed, she exclaimed, "Carver, you are one of the bravest people I've ever met, and I'm not saying that because you're my brother. I say that because throughout all of our jobs this year, you have put our countrymen ahead of yourself. You've striven to do what is right, and that takes great courage. You cannot blame yourself for what happened. The best we can do is… live the way Bethany would've wanted us to. We owe it to her to make her proud, wherever she and Father are."

Carver grunted to himself and scratched his head, as if wondering whether he dared to believe Raven's words. When he looked at her again, however, he let out a long breath.

"Well… she wouldn't want us moping like this, that's for sure," he conceded, eyes down at his hands. He was twiddling his thumbs; an old habit he only picked up during the nights he was most on end. Raven found herself wondering how many nights he had resurrected this habit while stationed at Ostagar.

"I quite agree," the elder Hawke heard herself saying. "And in the end… we killed that beast. And we'll kill any more that we see."

"Hopefully there _won't_ be more," he grumbled, back to his default faux bravery and gruffness. "But if there are… I call first dibs."

That made Raven laugh. She reached out and ruffled her brother's hair—Carver yelped in dismay—before murmuring, "Glad I could help. Now get back to sleep, brother. Our last day on the job is tomorrow, and then we'll be free men."

Carver nodded and lay back down on his bed as Raven carefully extinguished the fire she had created in the hearth. Once the last of the embers had died, she climbed the flimsy ladder back up to the top bunk and closed her eyes, knowing that even if she and her family were living in a dump, at least they were safe.

* * *

Hello, dear readers! If you've reached the bottom of this page that means you're wonderful! Thank you for reading!

As you might have seen in the description for this story, this isn't necessarily a story with plot; it's going to be a bunch of one-shots centered around Hawke's relationships with her loving family and endearing companions, as well as all the mischief they might get up to outside of what we see in the game. There will be action, romance, friendships, and whatever else I feel like writing about! Huzzah!

If you like what you read or have any constructive comments or found a pesky typo (banes of my eXiStEnCe), feel free to leave your thoughts in that there white box below. I'll try and update soon but I have two other stories I'm currently working on and two jobs for the summer! So no promises ;) Except for the one where I shall do my best!

Until next time!

~Avalain Nightshade


	2. Chapter 2- Gossip with Mother

The day after they were free from work, the Hawke siblings scoured Hightown for further employment. The closest they got to landing a job was when a dwarf by name of Varric Tethras promised partnership in an expedition to the Deep Roads—if they had fifty sovereigns to invest in the voyage.

After about two months, Raven and Carver had managed to earn around twenty-five sovereigns… but the odd jobs they'd completed to gain said money had landed them in the strangest situations. Fortunately, those misadventures introduced Raven to people—acquaintances who quickly became friends—that vowed to help them gain the money to go on the expedition.

One day, when Raven was sitting at home with her Mother, drinking tea and wearing new clothes that they were now able to afford, the older woman leaned forward and declared, "You know, love, I really appreciate you and Carver spending some of your hard earned money to get us a few things we used to have in Lothering."

"I'm glad to do it," Raven grinned, setting her mug on the small table. "It's only fitting that we spend some of the money we receive on the home."

Mother chuckled and exclaimed, "It might not be for much longer. I've an audience with the viscount after Bartrand's expedition leaves!"

"Really?" gasped Raven, her bright blue eyes flying wide. All the exhaustion she had been feeling vanished like smoke upon hearing these words. "That's wonderful, Mother!"

"Isn't it? Perhaps soon, you and Carver can live where I grew up…"

Raven's Mother trailed off with a hopeful and wistful expression on her face. That expression vanished when she glanced around the shack that Uncle Gamlen called home and snorted slightly. "It'll certainly be a much better sight for you and Carver than _this_ dump. Not to mention I think poor Brutus is getting bored."

Raven glanced over to the doormat upon which the mabari was sleeping… as the dog dreamed, he started kicking with his back legs, making both women laugh. Brutus was a restless soul—always had been and always would be, of that, Raven was sure.

She also wanted to be sure that Mother would win back the Amell Estate from the slavers that had bought it, but realistically, she wasn't certain that would happen. That was the trouble with politics; even if a cause was right and correct, money would always tip the scales.

If, however, Raven ended up finding treasure in the Deep Roads, then she would have enough money to purchase the life she, Mother, and Carver _should_ have had when first they entered Kirkwall.

"And darling, I've been meaning to ask you—who _are_ all these strange people you and Carver traipse about the city with? A few of them have stopped by the house, but I've never engaged in more than small conversation with them."

Raven laughed, seeing why her Mother might've been alarmed. After all, the people she and her brother had befriended included but were not limited to: a sarcastic dwarf, an apostate Grey Warden, an ex-pirate, an elvish blood mage, an elvish ex-slave, an exiled prince, and a city guard of Kirkwall.

"Worry not, Mother. They're just a bunch of misfits. _My_ bunch of misfits." Raven smirked and shook her head at the thought of her friends.

Mother seemed comforted by her daughter's response, although quite a bit of curiosity was still on her face. Cocking her head sideways, she then asked, "So what do _you_ think about them? Carver has told me of his… opinions, but I'd like to hear your perspective."

Raven nodded slowly. "Very well. Who would you like to hear about first?"

"How about that dwarf that's hired you and Carver to the expedition?"

The young woman snickered. There was so much she could say about the man. She thought about all the things she had thought and undergone with him… After a moment of thought, Raven said aloud, "Varric has proven to be a good friend. He's very helpful, and accepting, and a _fantastic_ listener. He has his hands in everything. It's rather impressive, really. But he uses that power to protect all of our friends. Besides, I don't know what Carver and I would be doing without him."

Mother nodded approvingly, a brief spark in her aged eyes. The wrinkles around them seemed to lessen a little as she followed with, "How about the others? What do you think of them?"

Raven took a moment to think of all she wanted to say about her friends. Eventually, she spoke her mind:

"Aveline's Aveline… I mean, you know how she is. She's frighteningly loyal, even though she doesn't quite approve of some of the things Carver and I were hired to do. She's… understanding, capable, and truly dependable. You know how rare that is in _this_ city. She's good to have around.

"Anders is—he's an interesting character. He's quite skilled at living how he wants to. And… well, I can tell you, because we—we have personal experience with the struggle. He's trying to liberate the mages of Kirkwall. He's selfless; always hoping to set free another mage or heal the wounds of another refugee. He's an _incredibly_ passionate advocate for mage rights—dangerously so. In fact, it's rather hard to restrain him when templars are nearby. But it's worth having him around. After all, he _is_ the one who gave me the maps to the Deep Roads.

"Fenris doesn't get along with Anders. At all. You should see me trying to mediate those two, Mother. Honestly, it's awful. Anyway… Fenris escaped from a horrid magister master from Tevinter. He believes that mages _should_ be in the Circle, but… somehow, he's been quite understanding towards my _own_ situation. Even though I'm a mage—and trust me, that _did_ put a damper in our relationship at first—we've had good conversation about starting new lives and helping each other settle down in Kirkwall.

"My ex-pirate: Isabela. What a fun, free-spirited individual! She does her best to separate herself from the burden known as responsibility. She doesn't talk about her past much, but if I find myself in need of a friend to drink with, Bela's _always_ my first choice.

"Merrill is a cinnamon roll. She's Dalish, you know, trying to regain some elvish history for her people. Her intentions are good, but the means by which she's trying to find answers are _not_ to my taste. I can look past it, though… Merrill's precious. She trusts in people easily and always chooses to look on the best side of things.

"Now—last and not least, Sebastian Vael. I don't believe I've ever met a more well-to-do man. He's an exiled prince from Starkhaven who dedicated his life to the Chantry. I know he's always trying to be charitable—I've heard from Anders that he spends a lot of time donating food and clothes to refugees in Darktown. He's great for conversation, and an astounding archer. Out of the whole lot, he's one of two voices of reason. Honestly, without him and Aveline around, I think I'd go crazy."

Throughout her spiel, Mother had been laughing and listening intently. It was clear, from the brightness in her eyes and newfound youth to her face, that she was beyond joyous to hear how well Raven was settling into Kirkwall. Even if her friends were a little bizarre, her Mother seemed no less than delighted to hear about them. With a chuckle, she said, "Well, Carver told me things quite differently. Yet I am not terribly surprised. He has always been… resentful that we left Lothering."

Raven knew this too. Carver would've rather tried to fight for Lothering, if they'd had the templars or militia or even mabari to do so. He had grown bitter after being forced to leave their childhood home for a place of squalor and constant fear of the templars, who were _always_ searching for apostate mages like Raven.

"I know. But we could have done much worse than this," replied Raven. She looked at the hearth she and her mother were sitting around and sighed, "Things could've been better too, however."

Mother chuckled and placed a hand on her daughter's arm. Her eyes were bright-blue, just as Raven's were… but as they looked at each other for a while, Mother's eyes began to well up with tears.

"I don't know whether to be grateful that we are here, or sorry that we are here while Bethany is not," she gasped, lowering her gaze.

Raven swallowed past the lump in her throat and got up from the seat, wrapping her arms around her Mother. For the year and odd some months since they had fled the Blight, Raven couldn't help but think back on the moment often and wonder whether or not there had been something she could've done. She knew Carver often thought the same.

Even so, Raven _also_ knew she couldn't let those thoughts drive her every waking hour. What happened was done, and the best she and her family could now do would be to strive to live the way Bethany would've wanted them to.

Of course, Mother had a harder time accepting this. Despite all the times Carver had attempted to convince her to move on, she couldn't. All Raven could do during times like these was embrace her and try to remind her that there was still plenty more to live for, whether it felt like it all the time or not.

It took a while, but at last Mother's tears dried. Raven handed her a handkerchief and watched as she dabbed her face lightly. When at last Mother was able to speak again, she sniffed and said, "Thank you, Raven, for all you are doing. I will always be so proud of you and Carver."

Raven smiled and hugged her again. It was always nice to simply speak to her Mother and have a few moments to spend time with the family she was so dedicated to protecting.


End file.
